


Through the Night

by omarandjohnny



Category: Brokeback Mountain (2005)
Genre: Flashbacks, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-27
Updated: 2015-04-27
Packaged: 2018-03-26 00:39:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3830695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omarandjohnny/pseuds/omarandjohnny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I don't care what's right or wrong, I don't try to understand., let the devil take tomorrow, Lord, tonight I need a friend.- Kris Kristofferson, Help Me Make it Through the Night. Takes place in Ennis’s ‘twilight’ years. I do not claim to own these characters in any way, they belong to Annie Proulx.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Through the Night

**Author's Note:**

> This piece was originally written and posted to the Wranglers community on LJ on September 6, 2005.

“Daddy? Daddy, we’re here,” Francine whispered sweetly in the elderly man’s ear, brushing a finger through his disheveled hair.

Sunday evenings were set aside for visits to “the home,” where Alma Jr. had coldly placed their father, after the stroke had made his right side rock-solid and useless. Francine had no say in the matter, the Almas had teamed up early in life, and she was written off as the baby. 

It killed her to see the man who she remembered as a strong, tall ranch hand turn into this shadow of himself. Once completely independent, now he could only manage a few words before trailing off to forgotten years, and was unable to dress himself. The nursing home was in itself a living organism, a melancholy hulk clamping its hands on the frail shoulders that passed through its doors. That overwhelming smell of hospital supplies, chemicals, and the faint sting of human waste, it was at times too much to bear.

“Hello, darlin'…why you spendin your night off with a mean ole man?” Ennis joked, slightly raising his left hand to meet hers. She curled her soft fingers into his, grazing the wrinkled pads. _Kiddin' around, must be a good evening for him,_ she thought, smiling at his almost blissful expression. 

“Oh Daddy, come on now, you’re only as mean as me,” He laughed heartily at her statement, knowing full well Francine had not one mean bone in her body.

“Francy, you should a heard that nurse come in here today, devil in the flesh. She wouldn't give me two minutes peace, this had to be changed, that curtain needs openin', turn that radio down Mr. Del Mar, lord. If I could, I’d a swat her like a horse.” 

She sighed, he’d only had one nurse that pleased him, and that had been Alma Jr. She spoiled him for the first few years, then as time soured his health, her giving nature did the same. Francine rubbed his palm, hoping to soothe his still simmering temper. 

“Ah, Daddy, I’m sorry. I’ll see if I can find some pretty lil' thing to come round to check on ya,” giggling as she said it.

He grinned wide, giving a mischievous wink as he nodded his approval. They bantered back and forth, every Sunday evening spent in the same fashion, six months running. It had been the most time she’d spent with him in her entire life, which made her stomach hurt to think about sometimes. 

Time rolled on, and the corridor lights were dimmed, signaling that visitors time was up. Pursing her lips, she pushed back an urge to cry, wishing she had the money to take him home with her. Gathering her coat, still damp from the quick-flash November snow, she stood up, wrapping both long, stick arms around her father.

“I love you, Daddy, get some rest now,” she said, drawing out the hug. He patted her back with his good hand, and kissed her cheek.

“Alright, darlin'. Be careful on them roads, it’s a bad one tonight.” 

She nodded, waving as she left the blank walls of his room once more.

\---

He watched her leave, her long coat sweeping the floor as she stepped. He’d never say it out loud, but he had come to depend on her company. She was a breath of fresh air in a place he had come to despise. For some reason, though, it didn't matter much anymore. Something unnamed and quiet cloaked his former fire; he could rest forever in the same state and be all right with it.

Clicking on the radio, he drifted in and out to the songs from years past, the old familiar tunes coating him in a sense of warmth. Ennis tapped a finger as he listened, kicking up old ghosts in his mind as the night rolled on. The pictures broadcasted fuzz, a secret time he could no longer place, mild Alzheimer’s chewing away at his youth. There was something there, someone there, but it was hiding behind the horizon, he couldn’t grab out far enough to catch it. Ennis grunted, disappointment in his failing system; a prevalent being, overshadowing the joy of his daughter’s visit. 

He leaned towards the window, his slight reflection shining back a face broken in with hard lines, sun-baked lines, age-weary lines that dipped his eyes into a permanent sob state. The moon was full, lighting up the empty parking lot of the Baker Brothers Nursing Home. The cars from the highway howled along, midnight truck runs echoing their tiredness with axles clacking. As the sounds closed in and petered out, he felt the rise and fall of another body against his. As the comforting heat persisted, Ennis realized whom he had forgotten. A light, sweet smell erased all others, and a warm hand rested on his shoulder.

Without thinking, he replied,” Ah Jack, don’t confuse a tired soul.” He could sense Jack’s smile, and turned to look. A young man; long lost by time’s cruelty, with fresh colors and clear lines, stared back, sparkling eyes casting a happy glow. 

“I just thought, you might like the company is all. Been feeling lonesome myself these days,” Jack whispered, scooting closer. Ennis let a sigh escape as that old feeling came back, it was there again, the air was thick with it. _That time, that time._ He let his body relax against Jack’s weight, shifting to re-welcome the embrace. 

“I’m getting sleepy, might nod off in a minute. Francy came to see me, you remember her, don’t ya? She’s a good girl, tamed down a bit in her middle years,” Ennis rambled on, knowing somehow that Jack was listening to every word. 

“I’m for a nap, Ennis, rest your head. The news’ll be here when you wake up,” Jack said, and pulled the old man to his chest. 

“Alright, alright. I’ll pipe down for now.” 

Jack smiled, and with a breeze-soft gesture, kissed Ennis’s gnarled right hand. Ennis swore he felt it, frozen nerves twitched in their wizened shell. The night had done its work, hooding his eyes to where Jack's reflection became a blur; a few colors shot against the wall. 

As Ennis grasped for words against the twilight of his lids, Jack spoke first, ”It’s ok, Ennis. Close’em and we’re done.”

Grazing Jack’s face with his right thumb, Ennis obeyed silently.

\---

The ringing jarred Francine awake; glancing over, the wall clock read a few minutes past two in the morning. 

Clearing her throat, she answered, ”He..hello?”

“It’s me, the home called, Francine,” Alma Jr.’s voice was heavy, masked sadness creeping through.

“No, Alma, please…” Her back caved in as she listened to fragments of her sister’s voice.

“Quiet…nurse came in for vitals…in his sleep…passed on, Francy, he’s gone.” 

She thanked her sister for calling, asked about arrangements. As usual, Alma was two steps ahead; the baby sister’s job was just to show up. 

Perking up momentarily, she asked,” Alma, did they say if it seemed painless?” 

Alma Jr. hummed and replied, ”Yeah, they think it was his heart, somethin' quick. Won’t be sure for a day or two.”

Francine said her goodbyes, and hung up, keeping her tears silent. 

She rose from the bed and padded to the hall closet, pulling out the box marked “Misc. Daddy’s Things.” Ripping the lid, she rifled through the contents, finally coming across the items she’d found on her own at his last apartment. A bent, faded postcard of a place high up in free-bird lands she’d never had the opportunity to visit caught the light. She had found it next to a pair of dusty, bloodied shirts, and purposefully failed to mention it to Alma Jr. _This is just for us, Daddy,_ she thought, those many years ago.

A smile began to grow across her stained face, and holding the postcard, she said to the open air around her,

”It was your heart, Daddy."

\---

The End.


End file.
